The Labyrinth of Flame

by Courtney Schafer

  He heard Teo say again, Wherever you go, death follows.

  That death was not his choice. It was Ruslan’s, and the pattern would never change if Kiran did not survive to break it. He sifted the currents surging past him for any hint of demon presence and nearly lost his grip on his shield.

  The demon had left him to die. He couldn’t maintain this balance of energies forever. He would tire, his shield would fail, and the currents would destroy him.

  The amulet was still in his hand. Kiran tightened his fingers around its cold metal. He had to find a way out of this realm before the currents killed him. He’d felt the demon take him here. Ruslan had sometimes cast spells and demanded that he and Mikail reproduce them without any information beyond what they had sensed during his casting. Kiran didn’t have Mikail’s innate gift for pattern analysis, but he’d learned to compensate with a combination of stubborn determination and meticulous experimentation.

  He must replicate the demon’s magic and escape into his own realm. If he survived, then he’d worry about making sense of the demon’s talk of bans and weapons. Kiran shut out fear and frustration. He’d felt the demon cross between realms more than once. Each time, he’d sensed that same dissonant flare of power.

  Again and again he relived the instants when the demon had ripped open the fabric of the world. He studied the shift of energies and examined every nuance of sensation he’d felt.

  Then he tried to re-create it, using the same slender flame that fueled his shield. Casting without disrupting his protection was horrendously difficult. Time after time, he had to abort attempts before the currents swamped him.

  The needling bite of the magic surging around him grew sharper, his shield fading to a ghost of blue. He drew upon the discipline he’d learned in Ruslan’s workroom and refused to give up. A slight variation here, a different harmonization there, experiment and analyze, blocking out a rising tide of pain.

  Long after he’d lost count of his attempts, he wove energies again—and the currents juddered apart, a hairline fracture of darkness opening in his inner sight. A mental shout of triumph escaped Kiran; he promptly lost his grip on the currents and the void vanished. Infused with new determination, he made another.

  Dangerous.

  Kiran whirled. The demon was standing mere inches away, its black braids pressed flat against its body and its fanged teeth showing.

  Rip that wider, and your flesh will not survive. You can’t cross between realms without anchoring your path, foolish child.

  The demon could be lying, hoping to keep him trapped here. Or it could be telling a brutally exact truth. If he played along, perhaps it would let some clue slip.

  Then you’d best tell me how to make an anchor, Kiran said. Unless you want me dead.

  Dead would be safer. Laughter echoed in his head, mocking and silvery, though Kiran had the sense the mockery was not directed at him. But had I cared for safety, I would not be kin-exiled.

  It brushed a hand over the ragged scar on its brow, and Kiran had a flash of insight—the scar wasn’t some remnant of a wound, but a sign of outcast status.

  Were you once one of the ssarez-kai?

  The demon hissed in disgust. My lineage is far stronger than that rabble. Yet my former kin are afflicted with a certain rigidity of thought that I do not share. They would not hesitate to kill you, but I am willing to consider other options.

  Kiran’s shield had never felt so fragile. He tried to project nothing but cool reason. Then explain to me why your kin would want to kill me. What did you realize that so upset you?

  The demon said, When first we came to the ever-flowing fire, we had not left our wars behind. Many and bitter were the battles between lineages, with this new power at our hands. Yet death no longer came easily to us, for we had found the secret of eternity. But Ashkiza—the Survivor, you would say, the last of her lineage, she who first crossed into this realm and birthed us all into fire—

  Kiran could not help interrupting. You say “she.” Your kind has male and female then, as we do? The demon’s lack of genitals certainly made it difficult to guess a gender.

  No, the demon said. Even when we were flesh, our race was never so crudely split. Any of us could create a birth-seed or be among those who fed it the blood needed to grow. I say “she” so you will understand every lineage respects Ashkiza despite her lack of kin, as your kind might respect one of those who lead you.

  In Varkevia, merchant houses were headed by their matrias. Arkennland had no such tradition; either women or men could rule. Perhaps the demon’s assumption meant it only had experience of humans in the south. But Kiran said only, What has this Ashkiza to do with me?

  She possessed a tool that drew on the substance of your realm to alter our fire as she saw fit. Such power set its wielder apart much as you bright-souled rats stand over those shadow-souled rats you call untalented; her tool was a great boon but also the deadliest of weapons. Each kin-line fought for the right to possess it, but Ashkiza was ever as capricious as she was brilliant. She decided none were worthy, and so she ensured none could reach her creation. She locked it away within another realm entirely, a realm not of mud or fire but poison, the very touch of which destroys us far faster than our fire does you. It is said that she built a great labyrinth of our fire within that poisoned realm, and her weapon lies at the labyrinth’s heart. I had always wondered why she bothered with the labyrinth when no child of fire could even enter its gate—but now I understand. She meant to keep her weapon from your kind as well as mine. You rats can endure the poison as we cannot, but those of you bright-souled enough to see the labyrinth’s paths cannot survive its flame.

  Kiran said in dawning realization, The ssarez-kai want Ashkiza’s weapon, and the bone mage was trying to create a child who could reach it for them. Kiran suspected the bone mage and her sour-faced crony had made their own plans, kept hidden from the demons they claimed to serve. No wonder they hadn’t cared what damage the confluence did to his unprotected mind. They wanted a tool witless enough he couldn’t be turned against them.

  But then Ruslan came, Kiran said. He burned the confluence and destroyed the ssarez-kai’s human allies and all the children…all but me.

  The ssarez-kai did not know you lived, the demon agreed. Their attention was far from your realm that night, drawn to it too late. They knew some ratling intruder had destroyed their work, but it had not seemed promising in any case. The children were too weak, too easily destroyed by our fire. The ssarez-kai did not return to their scheme; they had more pressing matters to address, thanks to certain challenges made to them by other lineages.

  Until Vidai’s demon saw me in the mountains, Kiran said.

  You claimed kinship, but you were poisoned and dying. We children of fire know nothing of how to heal ratlings. So the ssarez-kai who accepted your kin-claim left to carry news to the rest of his lineage: if this child should survive, then we have a chance of breaking Ashkiza’s ban.

  Kiran said, That must be what Ruslan offered them. The chance to use me to get the weapon, in exchange for his life and the destruction of those he hates.

  The demon chuffed in contemptuous dismissal. The ssarez-kai would have laughed at such a bargain. They do not need any rat’s permission to take and use you. I suspect your master bargained that he would find a different way for the ssarez-kai to obtain Ashkiza’s weapon before they could find and take you. If he succeeds, they will relinquish their claim on you and give him the revenge he desires. My kin would sneer and say no mere mud-land rat could be so clever as to break Ashkiza’s ban, but I have seen enough of your kind to heed your warning about your master’s cunning.

  The demon caught Kiran’s arms in a crushing, icy grip. He must not succeed in this. The ssarez-kai cannot be allowed to take Ashkiza’s weapon. So instead of killing you, little cousin, I will offer you the same bargain you think the ssarez-kai made with your master. Bring me the weapon, and I will grant you your life and destroy those you hate.
>
  The demons’ revelations had left Kiran feeling as if he were caught in the whitewater of a mountain river: battered and tumbled and given no chance for air. Yet one certainty stood out like a rock in the current. Whatever Ashkiza’s weapon might be, Kiran feared what demons—any demon!—might do with it.

  It would do him no good to refuse the demon outright. He needed time to think. You said you can’t touch Ruslan, he temporized.

  If he fails, the ssarez-kai will kill him for it, the demon said.

  And me. I’ve no wish to be forced into avoiding confluences and currents the rest of my life.

  You need not hide. Not if you let me bind my own fire into your soul and make a new, stronger kin-bond, the demon said, sweetly coaxing. Then you and I form a new lineage, no longer outcast, and the ssarez-kai cannot touch you without defeating me. An impossible task when I have Ashkiza’s weapon.

  No! The answer exploded out of Kiran, too certain to hold back. The demon was just as cruel and ruthless as Ruslan. Kiran would not make any bonds with such a creature. You ask me to exchange one slavery for another. I will not do it, even if it means I die here.

  The demon gave him a red, amused grin. Slavery? Hardly. I can give you freedom such as you’ve never known. Teach you to travel our currents and cross between realms as you please—and you, being a creature of flesh, can cross to the deadlands my kind cannot walk. You could escape me any time you wish, just as you could dance past your master’s wards and shrug off his spellwork.

  Despite his resolve, Kiran was tempted. To gain such advantage over Ruslan…could he convince the demon to teach him without the necessity of a bond? Kiran hesitated, knowing he had little chance of that without offering what the demon most wanted: Ashkiza’s weapon.

  He could offer the weapon and lie. He’d never been good at deceit, especially when speaking mind-to-mind. Yet his contact with the demon was shallow. If he constructed his offer carefully enough, perhaps he could convince the demon he spoke truth.

  He looked into the fire of the demon’s eyes and felt a shimmer of its expectant satisfaction. Before he could form an offer, a new voice broke into his head, sibilant and excited.

  There, did I not say I felt the rat-child? He stands with the outcast, and look—he survives our fire!

  Three demons appeared on the crest of a nearby dune. Looking at the one in the lead, recognition shivered through Kiran. The masculine proportions of its body, the contours of its coldly beautiful face, the azure blaze of its eyes that matched the thread of fire in Kiran’s own soul—this was the demon he’d met in the Cirque of the Knives.

  He backed away. Sand dragged at his feet, coiling up around his ankles.

  The scarred demon hissed. Braids and arms spread wide, it leaped between him and the other demons. You cannot have him.

  He is ours by blood-right, said the cirque demon. You have no claim on him.

  Nor do you, answered the scarred demon. He has renounced his kinship.

  Tendrils of cold magic whipped through Kiran’s shield and tasted his ikilhia despite his attempt to block them.

  The cirque demon snarled and said, Ah, now that was a mistake, child. It looked at the scarred demon. You have no kin to call upon in defense. Give him up, or we will take him.

  Try, the scarred demon said. Streamers of sand that glimmered indigo rose around the demons on the dune, swaying like snakes preparing to strike.

  Kiran dragged his feet free and ran, even as sand and currents alike exploded into a frothing tornado around him. He cried out, his shield buckling under the assault.

  An indigo coil of power burst out of the storm and locked around him. He struck at it, terrified that the scarred demon had decided to kill him rather than let the ssarez-kai have him. The coil tightened remorselessly.

  Stop, he called to the scarred demon. You want the weapon. Send me back to human lands. I’ll run where the ssarez-kai can’t follow, and survive to bring it to you.

  The scarred demon’s voice lashed across his mind. Then stop fighting me, foolish child. I will send you out of their reach, though I see your intent to run from me as well. Run if you like; soon you will beg to take my offer.

  Underlying its words was the utter certainty of fact, not threat. Kiran didn’t care. He yanked the chain of his amulet over his head. The storm ripped apart before him, and the coil flung him through.

  Chapter Nineteen

  (Dev)

  Cara shook me out of fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep. I jolted upright, looking wildly around for demons or a vengeful, furious Ruslan.

  “Easy,” Cara said, her hand still warm on my shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong. Lena’s awake—I’m making her eat, but soon as she’s done she’ll look at your binding.”

  The sun hadn’t risen yet, but it was well on the way. The pale twilight softened the stark lines of fins and buttes and canyons, turning the desert surrounding our ridge into a land of silent, sinuous mystery. Cara was fully dressed in her travel-stained leathers. Her sun-bleached hair was neatly braided into its usual long tail, her knife and charms strapped to her belt, her lean body coiled in a poised, confident crouch.

  I love you, she’d said. The memory felt like a beacon of warmth amid a howling storm. I touched her fingers. “You’re the best sight I’ve had on waking in a long time.”

  She grinned at me. “Wish I could say the same. You look like you need a good scrubbing in a river and about ten years more sleep. Can’t help with either of those, but I can at least provide breakfast.” She handed me some strips of jerky. “It’s lizard meat, so no promises on taste.”

  The best that could be said for the jerky was that I’d had worse. Chewing on a strip that tasted like a salted pack strap, I swiped grit off my stubbled face and took a more careful look around. This ridge might be a great spot to stay safe from demons, but it lacked any cover that could hide us from human scouts. Then again, that might not be a bad thing. To capture and interrogate Gavila, we’d need to draw her away from her demon friends.

  But first, Lena had to take care of the demon magic inside me. She was sitting a few feet away, gnawing on some hardtack with all the enthusiasm of someone forcing herself to choke down sand. Her hacked-off hair was a mess of tangles, her shoulders slumped and her eyes bloodshot.

  But her rings had brightened back to silver. I leaned toward her, ready to demand she look at my binding. I didn’t want to waste any more time.

  Cara clamped my shoulder. “Hold. I know that look in your eye, but remember, pushing too hard never makes for a faster ascent. Let Lena finish eating; we need her strong.”

  That was a lesson Sethan had pounded into my reluctant head in my apprentice days. Climbers so anxious to rush for a summit they neglected rest and food often failed to make the summit at all. But gods, it was hard to be patient.

  Melly and Janek were stirring on their blanket. Where the ridge dropped away in a cliff, Teo stood staring out at the distant garden of fins that hid the black-daggers’ sacred pools.

  I jerked a thumb at Teo and asked Cara, “Did he sleep at all?”

  “No. He said we’d want someone on watch who could sense magic, and Lena needed sleep far more than he did.”

  That, and he was probably too busy agonizing over Zadikah to have a hope of rest. I knew all too well what that felt like. He’d be going over every instant he’d ever spent with her, wondering if he could’ve said or done something that would’ve changed her path.

  “So long as he doesn’t end up so exhausted he can’t walk.” I raised my voice. “Teo. Any sign of clanfolk or demons?”

  He glanced back at me. His arms were folded tight, his eyes red-rimmed. “No.”

  If the ssarez-kai hadn’t sent clanfolk chasing after us, maybe they’d realized Kiran got snatched by one of their own kind, and were hunting him elsewhere. The thought brought back all my fear for him. I willed Lena to hurry up and finish the damn hardtack.

  Melly sat up, yawning and stretching with a supple fluidity I envied. Upo
n sighting me, she promptly bounced up and leaped into my arms, all flying flame-red hair and newly lanky limbs.

  “Dev, I’m so glad you’re safe! Cara said Lena would protect you, but I wasn’t sure Lena could. Lizaveta is so awful.”

  Her strangle-hold clutch around my neck made it hard to breathe, but I didn’t complain. I hugged her tight and said, “Lizaveta was a viper and no mistake, but she’s dead now.” I ran through a quick account of our failed attempt to rescue Kiran, trying not to betray just how deeply that failure upset me.

  Melly pulled back and looked at me gravely. “If Ruslan’s angry with Kiran, he’ll want to hurt someone Kiran likes. Are you going to try and make him break his blood vow not to harm you?”

  “Maybe.” Even as angry as Ruslan must be after Lizaveta’s death, I didn’t think that path would be easy. The way Kiran had explained it to me, the spell sealing Ruslan’s blood vow was rooted in Ruslan’s own perceptions. To break his oath and trigger a lethal backlash from Ninavel’s confluence, he had to believe something he cast would harm me—or Cara, or Melly, or an Alathian—and yet cast the spell anyway.

  “Hard to make him lose his head and cast at me when I doubt he’s even thinking of us yet. All his attention will be on finding Kiran.” I was terrified Ruslan would succeed before I could even find out where to look.

  Melly bit her lip, looking as worried as I felt. I cursed myself for an idiot. I should be reassuring her, not dragging her into my concerns.

  “Hey.” I tugged gently at a lock of her hair. “Remember in Ninavel when I promised I’d get you free of this whole mess? That’s a promise you can count on.”

  “I know.” But Melly’s eyes stayed shadowed in a way that wrenched my heart. She might not have truly Changed yet, but in leaving Ninavel she’d already tasted the helplessness and despair of losing the power she’d gloried in since her earliest childhood. That experience never failed to rip away a Tainter’s faith that adults could make things right. She knew now that some promises were impossible to keep.